


Stitched Together Stronger Than Before

by mithrel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blanket Permission, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, Holding Hands, Injury, M/M, Podfic Welcome, Secret Angels Dean/Castiel Fic Exchange, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-09
Updated: 2010-05-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 14:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas’ wing gets torn, Dean insists on looking after it and things get awkward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stitched Together Stronger Than Before

**Author's Note:**

  * For [simithedemon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/simithedemon/gifts).



They got the last demon, but something’s wrong with Cas.

He looks OK; he’s not bleeding or anything, but he’s slouched over as if he’s in pain. Cas should _not_ be in pain, he’s a freakin’ _angel._

“You OK?” Dean asks, moving over and putting a cautious hand on his shoulder.

Cas flinches at the touch, gasps and winces again. “I’m…fine.”

“Like hell you are!” Dean snaps. “What happened?”

“I believe…I believe one of my wings is torn.”

Sam comes over from the other side of the room. “Your wings? But they don’t exist here do they?”

“Not…technically. Usually they are folded away, but sometimes in combat they emerge. It’s a reflex. And one of them was torn.”

Dean looks at Cas’ back. It looks the same as always. He can’t see any wings. “So what do we do? Do we stitch it up?”

Cas shakes his head. “I believe it will heal shortly on its own.”

“You sure?” Cas’ powers have been diminishing, and Dean doesn’t know if he can still heal himself.

“Fairly.”

Dean grimaces. But if worse comes to worse they can always stitch it up. “OK. Let’s get outta here.”

When they get to the Impala Cas winces climbing in the backseat, and sits bent almost double, breathing shallowly.

Dean tries to avoid potholes on the way back to the motel, but Cas winces every time they go over a bump, and Dean finds himself wincing in sympathy.

When they get back to the motel, Dean looks through the first aid kit. They’re getting low on painkillers and suturing thread. “Man, we should have restocked before we went after it.” Ordinarily they would have, but he didn’t realize how low they’d gotten, and it was only supposed to be one demon, no problem. Instead there were four of the bastards and things got hairy. Dean makes a mental note to make sure they have supplies even for the cake jobs after this.

“What do you need?” Sam asks immediately.

“Painkillers, suturing thread and gauze,” Dean says.

Sam nods. “I’ll go get some.”

When he’s gone, Dean looks over at Cas.

He’s sitting on one of the beds, still leaning forward, holding himself stiffly.

“Hey, let me look,” Dean says, coming over to him.

“As I said, Dean, it should heal on its own.”

“‘Should’ being the operative word. Lemme see.”

Reluctantly Cas stands up, and moves to take off his trenchcoat, but winces.

“Here, let me.”

Dean pushes the trenchcoat off carefully, then unknots Cas’ tie and unbuttons his shirt. Cas breathes in shakily. “Lie on the bed.”

Cas lies down on his stomach. His back looks like a normal human back. Dean can’t see any sign of wings.

Cautiously he runs his hand over Cas’ right side. Cas hisses, but it feels just like human skin, slightly damp but otherwise normal. But when Dean moves to the left side his hand encounters softness. Cas whimpers.

“Sorry.” So. It looks like Cas’ wings are invisible. As Dean runs his hand over the wing, he feels a nasty gash. Cas whimpers again. Dean can’t tell if it’s bleeding or not, if angel wings bleed, but the edges feel like they’re knitting together. “You’re right, looks like it’s healing on its own,” he says as he cautiously probes the wound with a finger.

Cas gives a shuddering gasp and Dean hastily withdraws his hand. When he puts it back a minute later, he feels only skin. He strokes a hand down Cas’ back, not sure why he’s doing it, and Cas shivers. “I guess everything’s healed up.”

Cas nods, but doesn’t get up.

“Cas? You OK?”

“I’m fine.” But when he sits up he looks…almost flushed, and he’s breathing hard. He must have been in more pain than he let on.

***

Things go on like usual the next few days, which is to say that they try desperately to figure out how the hell to gank Lucifer now that the Colt didn’t work. But Cas has changed. He’s…well, _brooding_ is the only way Dean can describe it. He sits in a corner and stares, not his usual drillbit stare, but a troubled, unfocused sort of look.

Dean goes over and snaps his fingers in Cas’ face. He starts.

“Hey. You OK?”

“I am fine, Dean.”

“How’s the wing?”

And if Dean hadn’t seen it he’d never have believed it. Cas _blushes._ It’s slight, and gone in a moment, but definitely there. “Fine,” he says, not meeting Dean’s eyes.

Dean nods, unaccountably embarrassed. “Oh. Well. Good.”

It starts him thinking, though. He’d thought Cas was in pain when he touched his wing, and maybe he was, but the way he looked afterward… He’d seen that before. Hell, he’d _been_ there before! He just hadn’t expected to see it in Cas. And his reaction just now seemed to confirm it.

Dean feels his stomach sink. He’s not sure he’s right, and he doesn’t know how to ask, whether he… _Dammit, all I was trying to do was make sure he was OK!_ If he’d known he’d never have… But it certainly explains Cas’ withdrawal, and his sudden discomfort around him, where before he’d been more at ease with Dean than with anyone else.

He has no clue how to begin fixing this, or if he even can.

***

A few days later Sam is out at the local university library. They have an extensive Religious Studies collection, and he’d thought they might have some info on Lucifer. Cas has been hanging around; Dean doesn’t know why. He’s still looking for God, and that would give him the perfect excuse to avoid Dean, but he’s still here.

He goes over to where Cas is hovering in the corner. “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes?” Cas eyes him cautiously, and leans away slightly before he catches himself. Dean tries not to wince.

“Look, about…about that day, when your wing was torn…” He trails off and Cas waits for him to continue. “Look, I-I didn’t know I was…I was just trying to make sure you were OK. I would never…” He growls in frustration and finishes, “Look, what I’m trying to say is if I stepped over a line I’m sorry.”

Cas nods. “It’s alright, Dean,” he says quietly.

“You sure? I mean I wouldn’t want things to be weird just because I…”

Cas nods again, more firmly. “I know you would not have done that if you were aware of what you were doing.” His voice is flat, and even Dean, who considers himself fairly good at reading Cas’ expressions, can’t get anything out of the look on his face.

“Good,” Dean says hesitantly, then, “Hey, there’s a diner down the street serving homemade blackberry cobbler, you wanna go?”

Cas considers a moment, then smiles slightly and nods.

***

When Sam gets back from the library he finds a note from Dean saying he and Cas have gone out to eat. He’s a little miffed they hadn’t waited for him, especially since he’d just spent three hours looking through illuminated manuscripts and found bupkis, but he knows they aren’t _trying_ to exclude him.

Ever since Cas showed up Sam and Dean’s relationship had been strained. He can’t blame that on Cas, though. He just happened to show up when Sam was lying to Dean and wrapped around Ruby’s finger.

Things had gotten better between them after Dean called him back. He still doesn’t know what had changed his mind, but Dean had wanted to keep him within sight. It was only lately that he trusted him to go off by himself, and since the last time he’d been off on his own he’d started the Apocalypse Sam couldn’t blame him.

Dean had gotten closer to Cas, while Sam was gone. He remembers Dean’s voice when he demanded Gabriel bring Cas back. Hard, angry, with an undercurrent of fear. He’d used that same tone when something threatened Sam not long ago. He tries not to be jealous.

The door unlocks, and Dean and Cas come in. Dean grins when he sees him. “Hey, Sammy. We brought you pie!”

Sam grins back, his bad mood vanishing.

***

Since Sam has been watching Dean and Cas for awhile now, he notices that something’s off. At first he’d thought Cas was distant because of Jo and Ellen, but he soon realizes that isn’t it. Dean’s been sullen most of the time, sneaking glances at Cas when he thinks he isn’t looking. Cas, for his part, doesn’t say much to anybody, even Dean.

“You OK?” Sam asks Cas one day.

Cas looks up at him and nods. “I’m fine.”

“Really? Cause you don’t seem fine. You’ve been acting weird for weeks.”

Cas stares at the ceiling. “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with, Sam.”

“Maybe not, but you’re not acting like yourself.”

Cas sighs, a sound infinitely weary and sad. “I will try to focus more. We have more important things to worry about than my problems.”

“Dude, that’s not what I meant! You chose us over Heaven–that makes you family! We look after our own.”

Cas looks surprised, and almost touched, but doesn’t say anything.

“What problems?” Sam asks again.

Cas’ expression shifts to something pained. He takes a shuddering breath and murmurs, “I seized an otherwise unattainable opportunity, and it has been preying on my mind.”

Sam waits for him to continue, and when he doesn’t he says, “Oookay, not exactly helpful. If you don’t want to talk to me, can you at least talk to Dean?”

For a moment there’s a spark of fear behind Cas’ eyes, then he says fiercely, “No. I cannot talk to Dean about this.”

Sam sighs. “Then I don’t know what to tell you.”

***

It’s getting ridiculous, Dean thinks. Even though he’d talked to Cas, things aren’t straightened out. And it sucks. He wants things to be like they were before, when he’d make jokes and Cas wouldn’t get them, when Cas would invade his personal space and let him in a little.

But he’d basically molested the guy, and he’s not pleading ignorance. That’s no excuse. Now Cas is quiet and closed off, except when they’re talking about Lucifer or the Apocalypse. When they’d gone to the diner they’d sat in awkward silence for twenty minutes, and Dean had been glad to leave.

He doesn’t know what to do to fix it, except to apologize again, so he corners Cas one night when Sam’s in the shower and says, “Look, Cas, I’m sorry! About that day.”

Cas’ expression twists, and he avoids eye contact, murmuring, “Please. Don’t apologize.”

Dean winces. “I’m sorry! I-I mean, it’s just that I don’t know what else to do!” He stares at the floor for a moment, then whispers, “What do I have to do to make things go back to the way they were?”

Cas sighs. “There is nothing you can do, Dean. It is my burden to bear, not yours.”

When Dean looks up, he’s gone.

***

He doesn’t come back in the morning, or all that day.

“Where’s Cas?” Sam wants to know.

Dean shrugs. “Probably off looking for God, how should I know?”

“Hmm.” Sam looks dubious, but doesn’t press him, which Dean’s grateful for. Bad enough he screwed up one of the few good things in his fucked up life. He doesn’t want Sam to know it, too.

Dean sighs and gets ready for bed.

It takes him a long time to fall asleep.

***

In the middle of the night, something wakes him; a sound, a shift of air, a sense of _presence_ in the room.

He opens his eyes to see Cas standing by his bed, looking down at him with an expression of heartbreaking sadness.

When he sees Dean’s awake, it smooths away, leaving his usual blandness behind. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says softly, and draws away.

Dean darts out a hand to catch his wrist before he thinks. “Hey, hold on! Don’t take off again!”

Cas looks down at Dean’s hand on his wrist, and Dean flushes and draws back. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I just, I didn’t want you to leave!”

Cas’ eyes soften. “Really?”

“Well, yeah! I…that is, we need you.”

Cas closes his eyes for a moment, his lips thin. “I know.”

“And, and, I didn’t want you to leave. I mean you didn’t say where you were going or when you’d be back and…” he trails off, embarrassed.

Cas reaches out and squeezes his shoulder softly, the first time he’s touched him since his wing got torn. Dean closes his eyes this time, something in his chest swelling at the contact.

“Go back to sleep, Dean,” Cas says softly.

“You promise you won’t leave?” Dean’s voice is small, uncertain, and he hates himself for it, hates even more that he’s made it so he has to ask.

Cas’ face softens. “I promise.”

Dean sighs and nods. He lies back down, closing his eyes. This time he falls asleep quickly.

***

It looks like Dean and Cas have solved whatever their issue was…mostly. Cas still gets quiet on occasion, but he’s acting the same as usual ninety-nine percent of the time.

But his relationship with Dean has changed. He’s treating him the same way he treats Sam.

Sam has never figured out what exactly is going on between his brother and the angel. It’s not the same as Dean’s relationship with Sam, which was born of spending their entire lives together, watching each others' backs, protecting each other. He and Dean trust each other implicitly…or, well, at least they did. Now that trust is damaged, and not quite back where it had been before Sam started the Apocalypse.

So Cas’ relationship with Dean isn’t like that, but it isn’t this “I know you and I respect your abilities and I trust you to watch my back” that’s been going on lately. That’s just…well, _wrong._

“You and Dean seem to be getting along better,” he comments casually one day.

Cas nods.

“There’s still something bothering you.”

Cas sighs. “Dean and I…shared something.”

Sam opens his mouth, then it clicks and he says, “Oh. And he freaked out?” That would certainly explain things. There’d been tension between the two of them since the beginning, but lately it had shifted from Cas being an authority figure trying to make Dean do things he didn’t want to do to…well.

Cas shakes his head. “Not at first. He…didn’t know.”

Sam’s brow furrows. “How could he not know?” Unless Cas is talking about something other than what he’d thought…

“Do you remember when my wing was torn?”

“Yeah...”

“Dean insisted on looking at it.”

“He…oh.” Of course Dean would want to check, but if… “Did he…?”

Cas nods. “He did. And when he realized what he’d done he was convinced that he had taken advantage of me.”

Sam winces. That sounds like Dean. But he remembers what Cas said before, about seizing an opportunity. “And did he?”

Cas shakes his head. “No. If anything I took advantage of _him,_ by not telling him what he was doing.”

“So he’s been tearing himself apart because he thinks…”

“Yes.”

Sam runs his fingers through his hair. “Cas, man, you gotta tell him.”

“I have told him that there is nothing to apologize for.”

Sam groans. “That’ll just make it worse. He’ll think you’re traumatized and keeping quiet about it to spare him. You have to _tell_ him!”

“But…”

“But he wouldn’t have done that if he knew, I know. Regardless of whether he would have or not, you need to tell him you wanted him to.” Sam’s not even sure what he’s talking about, exactly, and really he prefers it that way, but he knows his brother and his reactions. If it’s even slightly possible for something to be his fault, Dean thinks it is.

Cas is quiet for a moment, and when he speaks his voice is small and anguished. “He’ll hate me for not telling him.”

“Cas, man…” Sam reaches a hand out, thinks better of it and lets it fall. “There’s _nothing_ you can do that will make Dean hate you. Trust me, I know.” If he hadn’t turned his back on Sam for starting the Apocalypse, he wouldn’t turn his back on Cas for doing...whatever it was he did.

“And you don’t want him tearing himself up over this, do you? Not when he’s got so much else on his shoulders.” It’s a low blow, but sometimes you have to fight dirty.

Cas’ face twists. “No! I would not add to the burden he has to bear.”

“So tell him.”

Cas sighs, but nods. “I will.”

***

Dean doesn’t know what’s going on. That morning Sam had shot Cas a significant look and said, “I’m going out.”

“To do what?” Dean had demanded, but Sam had ignored him and walked out the door.

So Dean had shrugged, and decided it was just Sam being weird. Awhile ago he’d have been worried, but Sam wouldn’t go behind his back again, and if he was he certainly wouldn’t announce it like that.

He gets out the weapons and makes sure they’re cleaned and working, then goes through the first aid kit and all the supplies, making lists of what they need to buy.

Then he sits around doing nothing, watching Cas where he’s standing in a corner of the room.

As he watches him, Cas looks up, squares his shoulders as if gearing up for something unpleasant and comes over.

“Dean, I…wish to speak with you.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“About…that day.”

Dean freezes. _He said he forgave me. Was he lying? Or did he change his mind?_ “What about it?” he asks carefully.

“You have been laboring under a misapprehension.”

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?” He’s getting defensive, he knows it, but dammit, what does he have to do to make what happened go away?

“You believe you took advantage of me.”

“Well didn’t I?” He had, absolutely he had, although he wouldn’t describe it that way. Words like _harassment_ and _molestation_ and even _rape_ flash across his mind. He doesn’t _do_ that! He’s able to find enough willing girls that he can let the ones who aren’t interested go. But he had, without realizing it, and the list of horrible things he’s done has one more entry on it.

“No,” Cas cuts into his recriminations.

“No what?” Dean blinks at him.

“No, you didn’t take advantage of me.” Cas pauses. “If there is any blame to be laid, it must fall on me.”

“Why? You didn’t do anything!”

Cas nods. “Precisely. I didn’t tell you what you were doing.”

“But–”

“I didn’t tell you,” Cas interrupts him softly, “Because I knew that if you were aware if the effect it would have on me, you would not have done it.”

 _What?_ Dean processes that for a moment, all the guilt and confusion of the past month suddenly crystallizing into an unbelievable conclusion. “You mean you _wanted_ me to do that?” He feels a flash of anger that Cas had used him like that, but Cas looks so miserable that it fades quickly. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“We are at war; it’s important that we trust each other. I did not want you to hesitate at a critical moment because of awkwardness caused by my feelings for you. But things became awkward in any case.”

 _Wait, “feelings”?_ But Cas is turning away from him, and Dean realizes he’s going to leave, maybe permanently.

Without thinking Dean reaches out and grabs hold of Cas’ shoulder.

He flinches, but Dean turns him around, putting his other hand on Cas’ other shoulder. “Don’t you dare walk away from me!”

Cas bows his head and stands silently.

“That was a really shitty thing you did, making me think…”

Cas nods, eyes still fixed on the floor.

“I mean, I didn’t know what I was doing and I thought…” He breaks off.

Cas lets out a long, shuddering sigh, and Dean relents.

“I didn’t know what I was doing,” he repeats, drawing his hands down Cas’ back and making him look up in shock. “But I do now.”

Cas stares at him, mouth slightly open, then breathes out a wondering, “Dean,” and reaches for his face.

Dean takes hold of his chin and kisses him, and it’s a slow kiss, with none of the hunger or desperation Dean suddenly feels bubbling up in him.

Cas sighs against him, as if he’s been given a gift he’s still not sure won’t be taken away as soon as he accepts it.

Dean slides his tongue against the seam of Cas’ lips, and when he gasps Dean sneaks his tongue inside, running it over Cas’ teeth, encouraging him to kiss back.

When he pulls away Cas’ hands are fisted in his shirt, as if he doesn’t know what to do with them. His eyes are wide, his mouth slack and red. “Dean…” he breathes again, as if that’s the only thing he can still say.

Dean shakes Cas’ hold loose and pushes off the trenchcoat. Then he takes hold of Cas’ hands and guides them to his hips and starts working on Cas’ tie.

When the tie is off, he licks up Cas’ neck, biting at his jaw, and the angel makes a small broken noise and his hands tighten on Dean’s hips before they move under his T-shirt.

Dean pulls away and lets Cas pull his shirt off. He’s bare-chested and Cas is still wearing a shirt and jacket, which is _no_ kind of fair, so he sets about correcting the imbalance, pushing Cas’ jacket off and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

He still can’t quite believe he’s doing this, that Cas is _letting_ him do it, _wants_ him to do it. This has been growing in him, this need to be near Cas, to touch him, almost without his realizing it. And now he’s finally getting the chance.

The little noises Cas is making, the gasps and choked-off moans, are going straight through him, but he’s still holding back, keeping them in.

When Cas’ shirt hits the floor he surges forward and kisses Dean. It’s wet, messy, a little uncoordinated, but _good_. Dean’s surprised how good.

“If we’re doing this,” he whispers. “I don’t want you holding back.”

Cas looks at him in confusion for a moment.

Dean leans in, intending to bite Cas’ earlobe. His hands land on Cas’ shoulders again, but instead of skin they hit softness.

Cas’ wings are out.

Cas whimpers, and, knowing full well what he’s doing this time, Dean buries his hands in them.

Cas rips away from his mouth, breathing ragged, eyes wild, and moans.

Dean nods. “Good. Don’t hold back.”

Cas moves his hands to Dean’s shoulders, hesitantly, and he has to know it won’t affect Dean the way it affects him. His hands are warm.

They stroke down his back, and Dean closes his eyes and sighs. But it’s not enough, it’s nowhere near enough. He _wants_ , more than that, he _needs,_ so he starts guiding Cas toward the bed.

He pushes Cas down onto it, but rolls off him almost immediately. Cas moans as his wings hit the bed. “Dean…”

“Yeah? What do you need? What do you want?”

Cas hesitates. “I…don’t…”

 _Yeah, of course he wouldn’t know, dumbass, he’s never done this before!_ Dean’s not quite sure what he’s doing himself, but he has a fair idea of the next step. “Yeah, OK, don’t worry about it.”

He unbuckles Cas’ belt and draws it away. Cas knows enough to kick off his shoes, and as Dean unzips his pants he has a moment to marvel at how surreal this is. Before he’d hardly even seen Castiel without the trenchcoat and now…

He jumps when he feels hands at his crotch, but as Cas fumbles his jeans open he groans and thrusts toward him.

As he shucks off his jeans and boxers Dean decides something. This is Cas’ first time, and he’s going to do it right, no matter how turned on he is right now.

“You know about the wings,” he says. “How about the rest of it?”

He doesn’t give Cas a chance to answer, just starts sucking at his pulse point. Cas moans and leans his head back.

He moves his way down Cas’ chest, licking and sucking, biting gently into the muscle. Cas writhes underneath him, his hands clutching Dean’s shoulders, stroking through his hair, ghosting over his back. All the time he’s making little stunned noises, gasping and panting as if he can’t get enough air.

When Dean starts worrying his nipple, Cas arches his back and makes a sound that hurts Dean’s ears. His hand is warm at Dean’s neck.

He pulls back after a long moment to look at Cas. He looks…debauched. His skin is flushed, there are bruises on his neck and chest, his hair is sticking up every which way and his entire body is sheened with sweat. “Good?”

Cas doesn’t answer, just pulls him up for a kiss.

Dean’s getting impatient now, his cock throbbing, so he curls the fingers of one hand around Cas’ cock and buries the other in his wings.

Cas makes a shocked noise, arching into him and groaning, “ _Dean!_ ”

Dean fits his cock against Cas’ hip and thrusts as he strokes him. Cas is almost too far gone to notice, arching mindlessly into his fingers. Dean runs his thumb over the head and Cas sobs.

Just as Cas is about to lose it, though, Dean feels a hand on his own cock, stroking him clumsily. That’s enough to make him come, and come _hard._ His hand pulls at Cas’ feathers, Cas gives a long shuddering groan and Dean feels moisture soak his hand where he’s still stroking him.

Dean works him through it, and when Cas falls limp beside him he takes a moment to recover himself.

Cas props himself on an elbow and looks at him. “Dean…?”

Right, explanations. Dean’s never been good at this part, especially since he’s not sure what’s going on himself. “I…when you first showed up you were a dick and I hated you for always telling me what to do.”

Cas doesn’t interrupt him, which Dean’s grateful for. He thinks if something stops him he’ll never be able to say this.

“But then you let me out of the greenroom, and, I dunno, you _helped_ me. I didn’t know what to think. I was convinced you had some ulterior motive.”

“Angels don’t have ulterior motives,” Cas protests, and Dean snorts and shushes him.

“Yeah, maybe, maybe not. Anyway, it wasn’t until you saved us from Zachariah that I started really trusting you. After that…well, after that I started to actually like you, and since Sam had gone darkside…” He stops. He can’t say, “Since Sam started the Apocalypse I couldn’t trust him, and started to depend on you instead.”

“But it was only just now I realized I wanted to, to…”

Cas doesn’t say anything, but his hand worms its way into Dean’s, and at any other time he would protest that holding hands is girly. But now Cas squeezes his hand and he squeezes back.


End file.
